Adam had known loss before — betrayal, failure, heartbreak — but nothing came close to this kind of silence. The kind that had weight. The kind that hollowed everything out.
He came home earlier than usual. His meetings were canceled, his phone wouldn't stop buzzing, and yet he couldn't remember a single thing from the drive back. Just the pounding in his head and that quiet, gnawing need to see her — to say something, anything.
But the moment he stepped inside, he knew something was off.
It wasn't just stillness. It was emptiness.
No faint music coming from the living room. No trace of her perfume in the air. No soft voice calling his name from down the hall.
Only silence. Cold and wide.
"Mrs. Ravenstrong left early this morning, sir," the housekeeper said nervously from the doorway. "She... she didn't say where she was going."
Adam stopped mid-step. "What?"
